


A three way is as good as a holiday

by highestkingbambi



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eliot and Margo play for dominance., Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, NSFW, Sub Q, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-25 08:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13830225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highestkingbambi/pseuds/highestkingbambi
Summary: Set Post Season 3 Episode 9. Fen and Julia saved Eliot and Margo, with Quentin arriving just in time to somehow be involved.The castle is empty but for Q, E and M, allowing Margo to have a well earned breakdown.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot, but I’ve had to make it a two parter so that I actually post this and have a reason to continue regardless of what happens in tonight’s episode. 
> 
> Also this is my first foray into Fanfic, so I apologise for errors in tagging.

The three of them had not been alone since Margo had brought Eliot and Quentin back to Fillory before, but also after they spent their entire lives working on the mosaic. Even then, they had never felt truly alone, not with the threat of the Fairy Queen and her network of moisture whoring spies skulking around the castle. 

They had braved rabid hoards of disenfranchised Fillorians, captivity and the prospect of a Marie Antoinette style demise, but now, safe in the confines of their Goddess in Training charmed castle, they were alone. 

Fen, their unlikely ex-FU fighting saviour had returned to earth with Julia, who had managed to set up enough wards to make them feel safe enough to stay in the place they now considered more home than Brakebills had ever been. 

It hadn’t taken more than a brief stroll through empty corridors for the weight of their still unfinished journey to take its toll on Margo. She put up a brave front, but with only Eliot and Quentin to impress, she found her walls breaking down faster than a condom stored in a wallet. 

Tears streamed from her good eye, which she half hearted wiped away. The others hadn’t noticed. 

Eliot had made a beeline for his royal chambers, the only place still guaranteed to contain what passed for drinkable champagne. His hand was wrapped around Quentin’s wrist, dragging him along the same way he had always done with her. Something had changed between them. Between all of them. She knew what had happened between her and Eliot to cause a distance they’d never thought possible back when their biggest challenge was destroying the competition at Welters and remaining sober enough to attend classes. Margo had figured that she and Quentin had made up after he acted like such a little bitch over the threesome, but then he was always awkward, even when he was comfortable. What Margo didn’t understand was what had changed between her two best friends, and with a gap of sixty odd years, she knew she never would. 

The way things had gone in Margo’s life, she would never understand what they had. 

To her surprise, they both took her hands and pulled her into Eliot’s room, looks of glee turning to confusion as they recognised the sadness in her expression. 

“What’s wrong Margo?” Quentin was the first to break the silence. Ever familiar with misery, he softened his grip on her hand and lead her to sit at the end of the bed. 

“Something that champagne can fix?” Eliot asked, his own grip released so he could crouch next to his bed and produce Fillorian Brut from its hiding place. 

Margo huffed from her place at the end of the bed. Where could she start to explain the pent up feelings that had been eating away at her self confidence since becoming High Queen. She fought back more tears before crying out about having been threatened, tortured, manipulated, disrespected, and played for a fool. She had been treated as a pawn and called a virgin, first by Ess who was hardly marriage material, and then by the Fairy Queen and had somehow been convinced to lower her guard enough to be just maybe a little happy in marrying Micah, only to be forced into nuptials with his pubescent freak of a brother after watching him get beheaded at her own wedding. 

“And you know what, I could get past the fact that I’m going to be a goddamn cyclops for the rest of my life,” she yelled out, the tears replaced by so much rage. “But the worst thing,” she tried to hold herself together one last time, “I haven’t been laid in fucking months!”

Quentin let out an awkward laugh, while Eliot fumbled pouring the champagne into glasses. The men didn’t know what to say. They too had suffered greatly since their lives had become intertwined in the cruel politics of what was supposed to be a fictional world. Yet somehow they hadn’t ever expected it to get to her. Not Margo the Destroyer. 

“Give me the fucking bottle El,” she said, snatching it from his shocked hands and downing at least half in one large gulp.  
Eliot and Quentin looked at each other, their eyes betrayed a conversation the dare not have aloud. Before her outburst, they’d had an unspoken agreement to wait until Margo fell asleep before spending the night working out where they stood with each other. Now they couldn’t help feel a twinge of guilt at what may have been a chance at their own happiness. 

Eyes darted between each other and Margo, who had fallen back into the bed, alcohol clutched to her chest, but lacking the resolve to do anything more than consider drinking her pain away. It had worked for Eliot. Sort of. 

To his own surprise it was Quentin who suggested a solution. 

“So, uh this might be the worst way to make like,” he struggled with his words as he clambered onto the bed next to Margo, his eyes pleading Eliot to do the same. “So this, um, well my therapist would say it’s a terrible idea for a normal person,” he mumbled, laying an awkward kiss on the side of her cheek, “but you’re not a normal person.”

“You’re better than normal,” Eliot piped in, he was slowly working out what Quentin was doing, and had the grace to smooth out his explanation. He slid to the left of Margo, body parallel on its side and his head propped up by his elbow. 

“Way better,” Quentin added as he brought his own legs up onto the bed. He pried the bottle from her hands, as Eliot brushed her hair from her face. His touch soothes her, preventing her from fighting against their confiscation of the alcohol. 

“Not too far Q,” Eliot whispered, concerned the Champagne would be placed out of reach. Quentin left it in a long dry ice bucket at the head of the bed. Close enough to reach should the inclination come to them. Hands empty, he released the buttons of his vest and let it fall to the stone floor. His eyes gazed lovingly at the bodies before him. Margo was still tense, but slowly realising the suggestion he had failed to articulate as Eliot nuzzled into her neck. 

“If this is a pity fuck, I can do that on my own,” she snapped at them both. She leapt up from where she had lain moping, Eliot darted to meet her, wrapping her in his arms. His eyes pleaded with her, hoping to reassure her that it was something entirely different. Their relationship had always verged on the taboo, and traditional methods of coping were hardly enough considering everything they had been through. The fact that Quentin had suggested it only made it more fitting. 

“This isn’t pity Bambi,” Eliot breathed into Margo’s ear while his hands twisted her so that she was facing Quentin who had moved to the end of the bed. The younger man was trying to work out the secrets to her dress, and despite her hesitation, she found his failure infuriating. 

“If it’s not pity, then what?!” She thought was ready for a fight, but was unable to hold her composure as the two men touched her with a gentleness she hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. In Fillory, it might as well have been. Margo never liked to believe that she was easy, but it was getting harder to say no when they were trying so hard. 

“Think of it as gratitude?” Quentin had finally worked out how to take apart the intricacies of her attire, his usual sheepish ways slowly being replaced by a certain self assuredness she could hardly believe. 

“A thank you for everything you have done, my queen,” Eliot whispered in her ear, and placed a delicate peck on her cheek as he removed the last of her outer layers of clothing. “From the two people that love you most.” He gave her a light push into the direction of Quentin’s arms and the large bed. 

Margo couldn’t deny that a threesome with her best friends was a terrible solution to depression. But she wasn’t depressed. She was sad and frustrated, filled with pent up sexual aggression and a natural impulse to do something stupid. 

“Well if this is a thank you,” she stared down Quentin, “I hope Alice taught you a few things, because imma need that tongue of yours to make my pussy sing.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just three way smut. Pure and simple.

“I hope Alice taught you a few things, because imma need that tongue of yours to make my pussy sing.”

Quentin bridled at Margo’s characteristic crassness, even after all this time she still had a knack for taking him out of whatever thoughts had been flying through his mind. He tried to swallow his embarrassment and remember that was just her way. 

“I can try,” he mumbled, thinking that it would have been better to have a drink or two before they started. Not because he wasn’t into it, just to quiet the self doubt that inevitably crept up at the most inconvenient of times.

“Shh Q,” Eliot purred, “I know for a fact you’ll give her the best of her life.”

The affirmation wasn’t lost on Margo, who couldn’t help but imagine Quentin eating out Eliot, and found the image lit a fire inside her. She knew that in the morning the feelings of loneliness and fear would likely return, but the prospect of another threesome, particularly with a more comfortable, confident Quentin would at least make it feel less permanent. 

“We’re going to come back to that,” she said. Margo knelt onto the bed, and took a hold of Quentin’s shoulders. His face was pink from blushing, but he had a sheepish smile building from Eliot’s encouragement. Warms hands slipped to her waist, before slowly sliding down her silk shift. When he reached the hem of her underdress, Quentin pulled it up, allowing his cool hands to cup her buttocks. 

Still standing at the end of the bed, Eliot watched in earnest, as Quentin lifted Margo, her legs wrapping tight around his waist. Their lips met in what started as a gentle kiss, but quickly became more heated. Their limbs relaxed into it, the force of Margo’s lust causing Quentin to fall back onto the bed, their lips never parting. His hands, still under her shift, grabbed a hold of the material and brought it up to her head, breaking their kiss to remove it, while Margo did the same to what was left of his shirt.

Eliot quickly followed and removed his clothing. Normally, he would have liked them to be watching as he seduced them with a tease, but he had to remember this was about Margo. His desires for attention had to be sidelined, at least for the night. 

He brushed his dark curls off his face before crawling over the bed. Margo had slipped from her spot over Quentin’s waist. Naked legs intertwined with Quentin’s clothed ones, and Eliot made a mental note to remove them as soon as he was able. They sensed his presence on the bed, and Margo rolled herself between the two men and on to her back. She gestured for them to kiss over her naked body, and watched as Eliot only too happily took Quentin by the neck and pulled him in to his wanting lips. 

Thankfully, Quentin hadn’t forgotten about her, his free hand slipping between her thighs, and finding the slight wetness she’d developed. There was still a lot of work left to get her ready. To he surprise, it didn’t take long for Quentin to find her clitoris and she was delighted to find that he didn’t resort straight to shoving his fingers inside her as if that was enough. He had learned a thing or two since the last time. Irritatingly, he lost the perfect spot, just as quickly as he found it, but he wasn’t too embarrassed to let her lead him back. 

For a moment, Margo wondered if she was supposed to feel claustrophobic, buried, naked in a bed under two men who clearly felt more than lust for each other. Or if she should feel bad for not feeling that way at all, but then Quentin added a second finger to his rhythm, and brought her rather close to what she was determined to be only the first orgasm of the night. 

She let out a moan, causing the others to break their lips apart. Eliot was grinning at Quentin, whose face had contorted into an expression of intense concentration. Buoyed on by the sounds she was eliciting, he was determined to continue dealing out her pleasure. As his speed increased, Margo found herself gripping the sheets beneath them. Without warning, Eliot started kissing her, slow and delicate, the exact opposite of what Quentin was doing to her pussy. He tasted different to Quentin, she couldn’t tell if it was better or just more familiar, but she wanted more, arching her back and pulling him down to her while Quentin continued to work her to climax. 

Margo’s legs went numb first, before the pleasure registered in her brain and sent shockwaves throughout her body. She struggled to continue kissing Eliot, the ripples of joy leaving her limp if only for a few minutes.

“Just, uh, give me a moment,” she breathed, wanting some peace to bask in her first non self masturbatory orgasm in months.

Eliot took the chance to pull Quentin over her and onto him. Already hard, he could feel that Quentin was too, bulging beneath the fly of his jeans, pressed against his thigh. There was nothing he could do about it though, Quentin was on top of him, sucking on his collarbone and stroking his erection. 

They had plan to talk things through before picking up a sexual relationship. At least try and work out what was memory and what was there between them in the present. He thanked his own life that they had changed their plans, because those memories had evidently taught Quentin exactly what he liked. 

Margo however had other plans. Reinvigorated from her short rest, she picked herself up and found a position where she could pry open Quentin’s jeans. Peeling them down to his thighs, she took a hold of his boxer brief clad balls, causing him to jerk up from where he had pressed himself against Eliot.

“Oh, god, thank you Bambi,” Eliot said, his voice rasping. Finally they would be able to get Quentin naked and that much closer to fucking him. Careful not to knock Margo out of the way, Eliot flipped them both over. It was his time to be on top and lead his two lovers to the point where they would all be seeing stars.

He took his chance to finish removing Quentin’s clothes, watching eagerly as Margo stroked his erection. 

“Now now Margo, that’s my job,” he said, slowly moving her up the bed. He clasped her hands around the cast iron bed head, and they both lamented that there was nothing with in easy reach to bind her. Quentin pawed at him from behind, his fingers clasping around Eliot’s erection, steadily pumping him. 

“What did I say Q?” He asked, barely able to finish the question as Quentin’s movements left him shuddering with pleasure. 

“That you wanted to be in charge,” he answered.

“Like always,” Margo added. “I thought this was for me?” She asked coyly. “So which one of you is going down on me? And why haven’t you started?”

The mixture of Quentin’s fingers and her questions elicited a high pitched squeal of delight from Eliot. He loved the friendly rivalry he had with Margo, and they’d been so caught up in saving the world and each other that they’d almost forgotten that side of their friendship. Trust a threesome with their favourite nerd to reignite the competition.

Margo was the first to stake her claim, unloosing one of her hands from the bed post to pull at Quentin’s hair and guide his head to her waist. The action spurred Eliot to kiss her, a quick movement of his tongue against hers before he pulled back, prying Quentin’s hands from his cock. He moved the other man between them, while Margo moved his head closer to her pussy. 

“So this is how it’s going to be?” Quentin asked between kisses down her bikini line. 

“For now,” Eliot said seductively. 

Quentin slipped his tongue down Margo’s warmth, causing her thighs to tense around his back. Each movement had her arch and drop her body into the bed, setting the pace and rhythm that he needed. He could vaguely hear the sound of Eliot slicking up his fingers, and readied himself to accept them. It distracted him from Margo at first, but Eliot was experienced enough with threesomes to lead him to the right tempo for them all to work together.

With Margo moaning above them, close to climax for the second time that night, it was finally time for the men to follow suit. Eliot slipped his fingers from out of Quentin and took hold of his own erection. He couldn’t tell who sighed first, or louder as he entered him, but the noise had him desperate to lean further in, as far as Quentin could handle. 

The younger man could no longer keep his tongue to a consistent pace, so Margo slithered down beneath him, one hand holding onto the blankets while the second took a hold of Eliot’s hair. 

“Now it’s time for you both to fuck me,” she whispered.

Eliot allowed Quentin a moments respite to adjust their positions. Margo lie with her legs spread wide, ready to accept him and he happily obliged, though knew it wouldn’t take him long to finish. Hopefully it was long enough for her. 

“Stop thinking Q,” Eliot said above him, thrusting back inside him and causing Quentin to do the same inside Margo. He kissed Margo first, while Quentin tried in vain to suck on her breast. The thrusting was getting harder, faster and all three knew it wouldn’t be much longer. 

Margo’s fingers brushed Quentin’s hair off his face as she moaned deep in Eliot’s mouth. Legs wrapped around them both, drawing them in, deeper, closer, until it was almost as if Eliot was inside her too. Sandwiched between them, Quentin shuddered and shook, every movement leaving him slackjawed and sweaty. He was the first to come, quickly followed by Margo who knew she should have forced him to pull out, but in the moment couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Finally it was Eliot’s turn, he broke his lips from Margo, who was panting quietly, buzzed and smiling. He kissed Quentin’s cheek, dragging his lips from the top of his jaw to the crease of his lips. The other man lazily craned his head to meet his lips. Tongues danced, and Quentin bucked back over Eliot, the last push before he was filled with a sticky heat.

Satisfied, Eliot rolled off him and laid down next to Margo, who had already fallen asleep. Her face was peaceful, with the hint of a smile that he hoped would never leave her face.

The sheets were soaked with sweat and cum, and Eliot lamented that they didn’t have anyone to clean up after them. That was until Quentin collapsed on top of him, his face contorted into that stupid smile he’d loved for so long.

He thought about how much he wished it would always be that way. Three of them against the world. 

But only if that made Margo happy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
